


this feeling will grow

by jamesiee, Rianne



Series: a history of hazing [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 09:13:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10533387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesiee/pseuds/jamesiee, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rianne/pseuds/Rianne
Summary: Jack has never really enjoyed hazing frogs. He thinks he would (hazeapalooza seems like it should be fun to lead, in theory) if only the Samwell Men's Hockey team hadn't purposefully excluded him from his own hazing, back in the day.He doesn't expect hazeapalooza in his fourth year to be any different.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [don't worry about my feelings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10525059) by [jamesiee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesiee/pseuds/jamesiee), [Rianne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rianne/pseuds/Rianne). 



> Make sure to start at the beginning of this series for the full experience!!
> 
> Based on the headcanon by [bshitty](https://bshitty.tumblr.com):  
> "good morning, the real reason jack didn’t take part in hazeapalooza as a frog wasn’t because he ducked out and avoided it but because the upperclassmen ‘forgot’ to kidnap him from his dorm and include him"

It’s the third time Jack is rounding up Samwell frogs for hazeapalooza. In his sophomore year, he had still had no idea what the Samwell Men’s Hockey hazing ritual actually _was_ , but he’d also been captain and everyone had expected him to take the lead. He remembers a lot of anxiety, a lot of surreptitious glances at Shitty and the juniors and seniors (who _had_ been dragged to Faber with a bag over their heads, back in the day) and an odd, relieved sense of surprise at the end of the night, when none of his teammates who had inexplicably voted him captain had realised that he’d been bluffing the entire night.

Last year, when they’d made Ollie and Wicks and Bittle howl at center ice, there had still been a thrum of anxiety in his veins. He’d been voted captain _again,_ so he must be doing something right (even if that _something_ was just the fact that he was the team’s top scorer), and he knew what hazeapalooza entailed. But he still half expected someone to realise he didn’t actually know what he was doing – an expectation that was definitely not just limited to hazing rituals.

He’s a senior now. He may not have been the best possible captain last year but he knows what he should be working on and for once he’s halfway confident that he _can_. He’s gotten through two hazeapaloozas as captain and he knows nobody is going to realise he’s basically an impostor here. So there’s not really any reason for the flicker of uncertainty and doubt that follows him around all day, as he instructs Ransom and Holster to kidnap Dex and tells their fellow juniors to get the rink ready.

No reason, except for the fact that on hazing day, he can never quite forget the awful feeling of loneliness and shame and helpless rage that came from being purposefully excluded from his own hazing when he was a Samwell freshman.

They probably thought he was weird and awkward and that nobody would miss him because nobody liked him.

They definitely thought he was a fucking _drug addict_. Which he supposes he _was_ , and in a way he still kind of _is_ because drug dependence and overdosing isn’t something you ever really get over, but it still…

It still hurts.

 _Get a fucking grip, Jack_ , he tells himself. “Shitty, Lardo, you get Nurse,” he says. The both of them quickly disappear, already talking strategy as they leave the Haus, and Jack turns to Bittle. “Come on, Bittle. We’re getting Chow.”

Bittle chatters the entire way to Chowder’s dorm. For some reason he’s carrying pie, which he wouldn’t leave at the Haus despite Jack’s insistence. Bittle’s pie has grown on him over the past year, though it’s still a disaster for his meal plans. Even so, he fails to see how pie has any place in a hazing. And he knows that Bittle knows this – Bittle, unlike him, has actually endured the sacred rituals of hazeapalooza.

They’re still bickering over the pie when Chowder comes back to his room. It takes five minutes to get Chowder out the door, because Bittle is convinced that they should just _explain_ to Chris Chow why he should put a black bag over his head. Eventually they’re shoving a shrieking Chowder (bag finally over his head) down the hallways of his dorm, while Bittle is reassuring Chowder that everything will be fine and he’ll get extra pie later to make up for this. Jack just shakes his head. He can’t help but imagine what it would have been like to be hazed with someone like Bittle doing the hazing, and—but no. He shoves that thought into the far corner of his mind, and Chowder into Faber.

Poindexter and Nurse are already there, bags still over their heads as Ransom and Holster guard them in the dressing room. Jack pushes Chowder onto a bench and drags Bittle and his pie out, back to the Haus where Lardo should already be waiting with the cooler full of beer and the other supplies to take to the rink.

He still can’t shake the feeling of _shame anxiety sadness loneliness_ that he’s come to associate with hazeapalooza, even as he stands in Shitty’s room, waiting for Shitty to grab the traffic cones that are for some reason stored under his bed. That’s probably why, when Shitty stands up, Jack overcompensates to project joy he does not feel, to bring a grin to his face and to elbow Shitty and say, thoughtlessly, “Shits, I’m so glad I never had to do any of this. Those freshmen must be freezing their—”

He stops because Shitty is staring at him. Shitty keeps staring for long enough that Jack’s smile falls off his face. “What?” he asks, defensive.

Shitty doesn’t respond for at least another ten seconds, and when he does, it doesn’t really sound like he’s talking to Jack. “You fucker,” Shitty whispers. “You beautiful fucker.”

The next moment, Shitty grabs the pillow off his bed and launches himself at Jack.

\--

Jack is still spitting out feathers when Shitty pushes him to his knees on center ice. Shitty is definitely going to have to buy a new pillow. As it turns out, pillows are not as effective as bags in blindfolding and subduing an unwilling victim. Though, Jack reflects, he can’t really find it in himself to be _unwilling_. He’s only been on the ice for a minute and he can already barely feel his knees from the cold, but somehow he can’t seem to care.

“There was one who has yet to endure the gauntlet!” Shitty booms, his voice echoing through the mostly-empty rink. “Jack Laurent Zimmermann, captain of our own Samwell Men’s Hockey team!”

The eyes of his entire team, including the three frogs beside him, are on him now. “Uh,” he says, feeling a warm blush grow on his cheeks. “I was… out of town?”

“Bullshit!” Shitty thunders, and for a moment Jack is afraid Shitty somehow _knows_ , or that he’ll have to tell everyone exactly why he was never abducted and taken to howl in the rink and crawl blindfolded through the Haus. Before anxiety can take over, though, Shitty continues, “You were in _town_ , Zimmermann— _dweeb town_!”

Holster and Ransom are laughing, and Jack can’t help his smile. The frogs around him are giddily talking about getting initiated with Jack Zimmermann – Dex is telling him how he should’ve gone first in the draft. That usually hurts to hear, because he _would_ have if it hadn’t been for—

But he doesn’t think of that now, because what’s important is:

Dex is telling him that his ass is ‘shockingly large’

Chowder is drunk and reverently sighing Jack’s name

Shitty is looking at Jack like he can’t contain his joy

Bittle is trying to convince Holster to let him hand out pie

And Jack tries to be serious and howl like he’s told to, he really does, but he can’t stop the laughter from bubbling up inside him because Jack—

Jack is home.

 


End file.
